His Saving Grace
by ChaseTheBreeze
Summary: JokerOC. A girl with no memory is the Joker's last hope to waging total chaos over Gotham City. But what happens, when, as the girl's memory begins to piece itself together, so does something else. This could either destroy them both. Or save them.
1. Intro

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, The Joker, or any of it's affiliations.**

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_I saw in his eyes a deep torture. Scars that didn't come from the instant flash of a blade. But ones that formed over years of screaming, rolled up in a ball, eyes wide with such an immense indescribable pain. How many nights he spent writhing in his own insanity, no one brave enough to save him, I winced to imagine._

_Realization washed over me at that moment, that the Joker wasn't anything more than he had a right to be. He had a right to hate the world, to destroy. With all that had been done to him, it was a wonder he was even alive._

_What would it be like, I imagined, what would I be like if I had lived his life. Would I be the same? Would I have killed myself a long time ago? Despite being a killer, a thief, and all that he was, the Joker was also human. He was a man. Therefore capable of kindness, able to feel happiness without cruelty. A man who could too, love._

_It was then that I looked at him, really looked at him. For the first time, in a new light, with a new understanding. It was if a blockade that stood fast in my way was suddenly knocked down into rubble at my feet._

_And I did something that shocked not only the Joker, but myself. I averted my gaze from his eyes, to his mouth, lunged forward, and with all the ferocity of my anger for him, I kissed the painted lips of the Joker._

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**IMPORTANT: This story was published under my previous account of A Girl Called Sorrow. Well that account was hacked into and everything deleted, so I made a new one.**

This is the intro, a glimpse into the future, not where the story starts off. Review.


	2. That Night He Caged Her

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, The Joker, or any of it's affiliations.**

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Grace retrieved the bobby pin from her mouth and placed it in her hair, holding back a loose tundril of black locks. "There." She said, smiling into the dirty mirror. This was it, the day she had been waiting for for three months. Her release from Juvi. The Security Guard had handed her the bag she arrived with, and Gracie wasted no time in changing from her bright red jump suit.

She shivered free of the garment that would haunt her forever, and quickly threw on her baggy camo pants and black speghetti strap tank top. The black hoodie, she tied at her waist. Gracie sniffed the sleeve of the hoodie. Well, at least they had bothered to wash them.

Shoving her hand into the mouth of the bag, she pulled out one last item. A sigh of releif was heard. At least they hadn't taken her necklace, she thought, like they had the earings and pair of jeans. Gracie bowed her head and slipped on the chain, dog tags dangeling at her chest.

She scrutanized herself in the mirror. A pair of haunted violet eyes stared back. She was broken, she knew it the moment hand cuffs were slapped onto her wrists. Gracie pulled back the rest of her long curly hair back into a pony tail and ran a splash of cool water over her face.

Looking down at her hands she noticed they shook. Today was too much of a dream come true. Gracie almost counted on the security guard turning to her and saying "Oops, mistake, go back to your cell."

A loud rapping sounded from the door. Grace jumped, startled by the noise. Quickly she gathered her things and walked the whole two feet to the door. Turning to look over her shoulder, she gave one last look over to the cage that she had called home for the past three months. Gracie took a deep breath, inhaling through her nostrils, and opened the door, leaving behind what was perhaps the most horrific part of her past.

Grace Saunders had no home to speak of. Mostly she stayed with friends and numerous one night stands. The purpose of staying the night with those men was to get a meal, a bed or a floor to sleep on instead of the hard concrete of the city. Things she would otherwise find impossible to obtain.

The wind was at her back, as if pushing Gracie forward. The day of November 30th was a cool one. A weak glow was cast by the sun, which was otherwise deterred by the shade of tall buildings and trees.

Gracie made her way from Dickerson Dr, where the Juvi was located, to 23rd street. Scott Anderson lived there, a fairly nice guy that she had several rondevues with that would be kind enough to give her lunch and a bed for a few nights. The walk would take the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon. She had closed her eyes and swallowed down all she could at breakfast. Who knew when her next meal would be?

Thoughts of the past few months swarmed in Gracie's head. Iron bars, cold nights, no sun. One week was enough to make most people go completely insane. But three months? It was a wonder Grace could think. Especially coming from a Juvi such as GCJDF. And the worst part of it all, was that Juvi was the only home she had ever had. Or at least the only one she could remember.

Six months prior to Grace's sentence in Juvi, she awoke on a bench in Gotham City Park, the Dog Tags in her hand. Gracie had no memory of anything prior to that night. She awoke in a panic, not knowing what to do, no memories to help her. For a few days she contimplated going to the police. But they'd just find her insane, or put her in some hospital. The streets, Gracie decided, would be her home.

And it was until the day four of Gotham's finest busted through the home of one of her numerous one night stands, arresting them all for posession of illegal drugs. Of which Gracie had no knowledge of.

And being seventeen, she was hauled off to Juvi. She gave the police the name that was on her dog tags. "Gracie Saunders." It was the only identidy she had. The other tag had a name on it as well, but it had been scratched out.

So as for the comfort of good memories to help keep the nights less cold, Grace had none. Just herself and the sleek metal of the dog tags which she never took off. That was perhaps the hardest thing about being locked up. No memories, good or bad, to distract herself from surrendoring to insanity. No identidy. She was reduced to the numbers 341598. Inmate Grace Saunders.

But at least she had three meals a day, and some sort of bed to sleep in at night. Still, something called to her from outside the walls of Gotham City Juvinelle Detention Facility. It was a dull aching in the pit of her being, as if she was being called to softly by a sweet haunting voice.

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22nd street. Gracie was close. She began to speed up, the anticipation of reaching her destination causing her heart to pump faster. Gracie turned the corner to 23rd street and came to a sudden hault.

Infront of the house that was Grace's destination, was three cop cars. The sight of red and blue lights startled Gracie, and sent her mind into override. To turn back and run would be too suspicous. She had to continue moving forward towards the cop cars, even though every fiber of her being screamed to turn tail and run.

An anamalistic growl rose from Grace's throat as she caught sight of the two police officers standing outside the small house. It was time to move, her instincts told her. Gracie quickly side stepped into the ally next to the house.

A wary glance over her shoulder revlealed no one was following behind her. Gracie breathed a sigh of relief and kept walking, her grip tightening on her backpack strap.

Slowly, Gracie's heart began to beat normally. She walked with her head down, deep in thought. The ally was long, about ten feet wide, covered in a thin layer of dirt. Once upon a time there might have been grass that growed inbetween the two fences, but it was long worn away by the trampling of hurried feet.

Grace wished she had a watch. A loud growling sounded. It had come from her empty stomach. "Damn." She cursed, wrapping her arms around her midriff. It was going to be dark in a few hours. Grace began to think. Sence her previous plans were so obviously not going to work, she had to think of a way to get a meal at the very least.

It would be so very easy to steal something to eat, but Grace considered such acts beneath her, and only did so when it was drastically needed. The sky above was quiet, cloudless. A sharp gust of wind startled Grace's sences. Carried with the wind came a scent. It went right through Grace and straight to her heart.

It was at that moment that Grace heard the foot steps approaching from behind. _'No, not this time. Not again!'_ She screamed in her head, one hundred percent sure it was the cops chasing after her. Grace kicked her legs high, breaking into a fast run. The sun began to set above her, sending splashes of orange and red into the November sky.

Grace turned her head to glance at her chasers, and stopped. There was no one there. She looked around confused. A whooshing sound was heard from above her and everything went black.

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	3. Trading One Hell For Another

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, The Joker, or any of it's affiliations.**

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**Previously:**_ It was at that moment that Grace heard the foot steps approaching from behind. 'No, not this time. Not again!' She screamed in her head, one hundred percent sure it was the cops chasing after her. Grace kicked her legs high, breaking into a fast run. The sun began to set above her, sending splashes of orange and red into the November sky._

_Grace turned her head to glance at her chasers, and stopped. There was no one there. She looked around confused. A whooshing sound was heard from above her and everything went black._

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They threw me to the ground at someone's feet. I hit the tiled floor hard. Pain sheered through my left elbow. I immediatly rose onto my hands and knees, and would have to my feet, if a boot from behind hadn't placed itself square on my back, not allowing me to move. A strong urge to turn around and punch those who held me down washed over me.

"Look at me." The owner of the shoes in which I was thrown at spoke. It was a male voice, with a tone to it that caused the hair on the back of my neck and arms to stand on end. A shiver rippled through my spine.

"Look at me!" He said, his voice growing impatient. Another shiver washed through me. The boot released itself from my spine. I raised my head, suddenly afraid of what my gaze might be met with.

My lips parted in preperation for a gasp that never sounded, for I was staring into the most beautiful and deadly face I had ever seen.

The painted face of The Joker.  
**  
Narrator's POV.**

"Is this her?" Asked one of the henchmen. The Joker gave a slight nod in reply and turned his back. "Take her to my room." He said, waving one hand over his shoulder.

Gracie's teeth clenched as the two men drug her to her feet. "No!" She protested, digging her heels into the ground. It didn't matter, they we're dragging her backwards anyhow. "Let me go!" Grace shouted, rearing up her legs and kicking at the air as if it would somehow help her.

"Shut up and stop squirming!" One of them said, jerking her violently. "Yeah, or we'll knock you out again." The other said. Gracie didn't care. This only prompted her to fight harder. Screams echoed from her lungs. She reached for anything to grab, a jacket, a handful of hair, anything, and tugged. She faught. Her head twisted from left to right, trying to see where it was they were taking her.

But each of the men had her by one arm, there was no way she could escape.

One of them finally sighed, cursed and brought his elbow back hard on Gracie's head. She cried out. The last thing that graced her vision was the back of the Joker, and then, her world turned to darkness.

Gracie always had good dreams. Never nightmares as some would suspect from spending three months locked up. Maybe it was because she didn't have any memories of people or places to fill them. Either way, Grace had always had good dreams.

When she awoke, a wave of nausia rippled through her. Instinctivly an arm shot out to brace herself against something. Luckily her palm was met with the face of a wall. Gracie doubled over onto her knees, one arm braced against the wall, the other at the base of her throat, as if trying to block the bile from surfacing.

She sat like that, eyes closed, for a moment, breathing in steadily, nostrils flared. When nothing came up she allowed her palm to slide off the wall and join her other one supporting her on the floor.

Her eyes suddenly opened and her pupils dialated to adjust the lighting. Quickly she scanned the room. It was small, a metal fan whirled above her. She could hear a siren going outside. Her heart jumped. Maybe it was coming to save her? But the noise passed and her heart sank once more to the pit of her empty stomach.

The room was a square, door at the bottom left corner. Across from it was a full sized bed, made perfectly, a closed window above it. Next to that, a reasonable few feet away was a three drawred dresser, a few things on it's surface. The closet took up most of the right wall, all of which was covered in a tan and white wall paper pattern. A small T.V that looked like it was at least a few decades old stood on a flimsy stand on the wall where the door was. The carpet was creamy color, a few stains here and there, but otherwise clean.

Gracie took a deep breath, arm oustretched to once again brace herself against the wall. With that she stood and stumbled the few feet to the bed. Gracie regained her breath and her bearings, once again having to settle her stomach. Nerves, coupled with not eating all day wasn't a good combination.

A quick glance at the door and a moment of hard listening toled Grace that no one was coming. She took advantage of that and stood on the bed, testing the window. Too bad, it was seeled shut. She cursed, hitting the window with an open hand. "Fuck!" She yelled, hitting it again. She just got _out_ of a cage, and now here she was locked in one again. Granted, a better one, but still a cage none the less.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" She yelled, totally losing control as her fist pounded the window a third and fourth time.

"Now now, such _horrible_ language for a young lady." Gracie's spine stiffened and she whirled around, immediatly pressing herself against the window. The Joker was grinning at her from the open door, hands behind his back. She glanced at it for the briefest of seconds, contimplating making a run for it.

The door suddenly shut with a loud slam. Gracie flinched, her chest rising as her heart beat quickened. Was she going to die right there on his bed? She doubted it, if he was going to kill her he would have done so earlier, or in the ally way. (If he was even in the ally way).

"What's your name girl?" The Joker said slowly, almost as if he was trying to play at being friendly. It took her a moment to answer, as she had to think hard on how to answer. It was like the second he walked in the room she couldn't breath, and her jaw wired shut. "G-Grace. Saunders." She finally said shakily, eyes following him as he walked towards the closet. Suddenly Grace remembered her dog tags. Her bag was no where to be found, what if they took her tags too? Grace's hand flew to her chest, but it was met with nothing but skin. She looked down, feeling around her throat. Her tags we're missing!

"You!" She shouted, a sudden white hot anger flooding over her. She forgot that he was a serial killer, a maniac, and God knows what else. All she knew was that her identity was missing, and _he_ took it.

"Give them back!" Gracie demanded, stepping off the bed and striding over to him in a matter of seconds. Sence must have found her, for she stopped just a foot shy of his chest. Her breath hitched as she realized what her anger almost let her do.

"Oh?" The Joker's grin widened as he reached into his coat. "You mean these?" He said, retrieving the dog tags from his vest and dangeling them infront of Grace.

She made a lunge for them, but it was no use. He was at least seven inches taller than her, and easily minuvered the necklace from her reach. "Now now." He said, as if scolding a child. "It's not nice to try and snatch things" He said, throwing his head back and laughing a mad, sickening laugh. Grace recoiled, planting herself against the wall next to the dresser.

"Your mad!" She spat, eyes wide and full of hate. The Joker suddenly lunged at her, stopping meer inches before her face, one palm flat on the wall next to her head. "Why yes, dear, I am. Thank you for noticing." He said, hand shooting up to grip her face. His grip was rough, forcing her lips to pucker.

"You want these back, girlie?" He taunted, jingling them in the air. "Well then, you'll have to work for them." He said. Gracie's eyes widened at the implications. The Joker pulled away just as a knee shot up to strike him. He turned his back, laughing all the way to the door.

"Goodnight, Gracie." He said, dangeling the dog tags in the air before shutting the door and locking it.

Grace sank to the floor, hands at her head. Her face ached with pain as tears streemed down her cheeks in small rivers, just as they had done the first night she was in a jail cell at GCJDF. Gracie's heart began to break. Was she never meant to be happy? Was she doomed to be placed in cage after cage? The Joker was going to kill her, she just knew it. Why wouldn't he? She almost wished he had.

What was it he had said? Work for them? What did he mean by that? Questions swarmed in Gracie's exhausted head. She was tired, but too afraid to sleep. Granted, she would know the second someone touched the door knob. Gracie had that way about her. When she was in lock up, the second the Guard's keys hit the door of the cell NEXT to her, she'd wake up.

So maybe it would be okay to sleep after all. Gracie looked around the room, stood slowly and made her way to the bed. First she sat at it, not yet ready to lay down. Perhaps she wouldn't. Instead, She moved herself to the corner and propped herself against the wall. Grace Saunder's last thought before she drifted off to sleep was rather odd. If properly concious, she wouldn't have allowed herself to think such thoughts.

_'His eyes...' _She thought. _'Such a beautiful green...'_

The Joker watched from the small telivision screen as Gracie cried, stood, and walked to the bed. His eyes narrowed. "She hasn't even tried the closet yet." He said to himself. "Huh." He straightened abruptly, eyes still on the screen. Maybe it was because she had no where to run to. Poor thing.

"Maybe she's dumb.' One of the henchmen said after biting viciously into a sandwich. "No...no, that's not it." The Joker turned slowly from the screen. He paced, one hand behind his back, the other at his chin. Something came to life in the Joker's eyes. It was a dangerous glow, perhaps that of truth, or realization.

The man eating at the table noticed this, and chewed slow, knowing that whatever it was that had just come to his master's mind, it was not good. No, not good indeed.

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**Review.**


	4. These Iron Bars Can't Hold My Soul In

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, The Joker, or any of it's affiliations.**

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**Previously: **_The Joker watched from the small telivision screen as Gracie cried, stood, and walked to the bed. His eyes narrowed. "She hasn't even tried the closet yet." He said to himself. "Huh." He straightened abruptly, eyes still on the screen. Maybe it was because she had no where to run to. Poor thing._

_"Maybe she's dumb.' One of the henchmen said after biting viciously into a sandwich. "No...no, that's not it." The Joker turned slowly from the screen. He paced, one hand behind his back, the other at his chin. Something came to life in the Joker's eyes. It was a dangerous glow, perhaps that of truth, or realization._

_The man eating at the table noticed this, and chewed slow, knowing that whatever it was that had just come to his master's mind, it was not good. No, not good indeed._

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_Lightning flashed in violet my eyes full of rage. I paced the bullpen, fists clenched into tight balls at my side. I wanted to punch something, someone, more importantly the nasty pigs that had arrested me under false charges! Drugs? Cocaine!? I had no idea that the people I spent the night with were distributing drugs! And yet there I was, pacing in a small room with a cement bench built into the wall, bright lights, and a metal door I would never be able to open unless I road a rhino straight through it._

_A yell of anger trumpeted from my lungs. I reared my leg back, kicking the wall. Which wasn't a smart thing to do, because now coupled with an empty stomach and aching wrist, my big toe on my right foot now hurt._

_"God dammit!" I yelled, not caring if anyone heard. Just then the door to the bullpen swung open. A heavy set woman in a guard's uniform motioned for me. For a moment I planted my feet and flared my nostrils like a wild stallion, saying "I'm not moving for you or anyone!" But reason took over, and I followed the woman out of the bullpen and into a different room._

_"You will need to strip down completely naked, and put these on." The Guard said, handing me a gray pair of sweats and a matching sweater. I hesitated, not knowing where to go. "Uh, where do I change?" I said, trying to control the anger in my voice. "Right here. I have to check you before you do anything." The Guard said, leaning against the desk._

_My mouth dropped. Check...me? Did she mean-. Surely not! But the woman's expression was completely serious. Oh yes, I was going to have to strip down naked and let this angry faced Rosie O'Donnell look alike feel me up! Hell no!_

_Perhaps the guard saw the rebellion flash in my eyes. Or maybe she just knew this kind of response was typical. "You'll have to do it." She said, as my mouth opened to protest. "Or I'll have to strip you myself." The guard said, not wanting it to come to that at all._

_I bit hard on my bottom lip and closed my eyes, trying not to think as I put the clothes down, and slid my black tank top off and placed it in the plastic bag the guard held out for me. Next was my bra, then my camo pants, panties, socks, and earrings. There, that was it. I stood there, unable to control myself as tears streamed down my cheeks. I felt violated. This was wrong. WRONG. Never should anyone have to expose themselves to anyone under force._

_But what else was I to do? It was either that or feel someone else do it for me. The thought made me cringe. "And...those." The guard motioned to my neck where the chain for my dog tags hung._

_Sheer panic washed over me._

_"Oh, no, these...never come off." I said, clutching the tags as if that would somehow protect them. "Even those sweetie." The guard said, motioning for me to hand them over. "No." My raven head shook. "No, I'm not giving you these." A sigh was heard from the woman. "Look, either you give them up by choice, or I take them by force."_

_The resounding thump of my breaking heart beat soundly in my chest. I had been shed of my clothes, my dignity, but not, NOT my identity. "Fine then." I said, planting my feet. "I dare you." The challenge sounded in a tone of voice that felt an awful lot like thunder._

_In seconds the guard was at me, hand clenched around the back of my neck, forcing me to bend. I fought, arms reaching out to claw at anything. There was nothing to grab though, just the fabric of a shirt that was tucked in at the belt. The belt. I grabbed it and tugged, anything to try and help me. But by then the necklace was off, and placed in the bag with lightning reflexes._

_Released, I lept back, against the wall, gripping at the back of my neck. Bruises were already forming from where the guard had held me down. Tears now flowed freely down my cheeks. A choked sob was heard from my throat. I reached out, grabbed the clothes with a shaky hand and pulled them on._

_I could feel the guard cast a pitiful glance at my bowed head as I sobbed. "Come on." She said gently. "Lets get you to your bed." She said, motioning for me to follow her._

_Broken, with no other choice, I followed, arms coiled around my stomach, face puckered. I couldn't control the sobbing now. It came in rivers down my cheeks, soaking the nape of my neck and hair._

_By bed, the guard meant cell. Jail cell. I was supposed to see the nurse before hand, to get checked for diseases and such. But it was too late now, and that would have to wait until the morning._

_The Guard opened the large metal door and motioned for me to enter. "There, you got your sink, your toilet, your bed. You'll be waking up at seven thirty, breakfast is at eight." She said._

_The bed was concrete, a thin plastic, what I supposed was a mattress placed upon it, a pillow at the head and a folded up wool blanket at the foot. The gravity of my situation finally sank in. I was jailed, imprisoned. There was a window about fifteen feet in the air. But it was frosted so no light could be let in and nothing could be seen out of it. I heard the door shut and lock. And at that moment, all that had happened suddenly came crashing down on me._

_My eyes widened in panic. I ran first ahead of me, the whole five feet, to the wall, then back, to the door. I kicked at it, punching it. I felt my knuckles crack open and begin to bleed. I didn't care. "No!" I screamed. "No! Let me out! I don't belong here!" A loud cry echoed from my lungs. I fell in a heap at the door, covering my face in a sob._

_Why had this been done to me? I lay there for maybe an hour, crying, hitting the floor and the face of my cell, begging and pleading with the Gods to let me out, to save me. . ._

_Soaking up the sorrow, I stood, in the middle of my five by ten cell. I walked slowly to the bed, laying down. I covered up with the blanket and sobbed to myself. There would be no sleep for me tonight._

_Right then, amungst the new smells that would haunt my sences forever, in the dim lighting and the hardness of the concrete underneath me, I knew, at that moment, I had fallen._

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Grace awoke to the sounds of footsteps outside her door. Her eyes flew open and she jolted, shifting in her sitting position. As her eyes landed on the door it shot open. She jumped, eyes wide.

"Goooood morning!" The Joker laughed, walking in. Following behind him was two henchmen, one carrying a chair, the other something wrapped in a plastic grocery bag.

"There's good, boys." The Joker said, motioning beside the bed. Gracie recoiled, her face taking on a look of both disgust and anger as he sat in the chair, a meer few feet from her.

"Tsk tsk tsk." The Joker shook his head, his brow furrowing to attempt an expression of sadness. "You act is if." He smoothed his greasy hair back. "As if you don't, ah, like me." He said, tongue flickering out between his teeth to lick his lips. "That's because I don't." Grace said darkly, bringing her knees tighter to her chest.

The Joker cracked his neck. "Now, you see, that was uncalled for. Here, after all I've been so nice to you." He said mockingly. A laugh lunged itself from his lungs, but was cut off by an animalistic sound as Gracie lunged forward.

"Nice!?" She said boldly, leaning forward on her hands and knees ever so slightly. Her long black hair fell about her shoulders and angered face. "You have not been nice! You kidnapped me, you freak!" She yelled, rage in her voice.

The Joker's head flew back and he released a manic laughter. Grace flinched back, anger replaced by fear. The Joker suddenly shot out, gripping her face and bringing it dangerously close to his. "Now you listen here misssy." He said, laughing. "You don't get.-" He was caught off by one of the henchmen calling his name.

"Uh, boss, there's an emergency. You better come with me." He said. The Joker turned from the man and back to Grace. "Well, looks like we'll have to pick this chat, ah, back up some other time." He said, pushing Grace back and standing. She growled, eyes following him like a wild cat ready to pounce."

"OH, and by the way." The Joker said, motioning to Grace before he followed the first henchmen out the door. "These are for you." He said, looking at the henchman still standing. He tossed the bag he had arrived with at Gracie. It bounced off her right knee and fell onto the bed. The Joker said, winking. He laughed the whole way down the hallway.

Anger boiled over and Grace punched the wall. "Argggg!!" She yelled, setteling for the pillow this time as she landed a few good punches on it's face. Grace grabbed the bag and threw it across the room. It hit the closet doors with a dull thud and slid down to the ground. She glared at it for a few good moments and stood, charging to the bedroom door. Grabbing the handle, she twisted. But it wouldn't budge. Her palm hit it a few times as her foot connected with it's wooden surface.

She was beyond mad right now. Hungry, nerves on end, confused, Gracie almost dared the Joker to enter the room again. It was then that he'd see true insanity!

Grace sighed, closing her eyes. She let the moment wash over. The Joker wasn't coming back to the room, at least not on this day. She knew it, somewhere inside. So she stood, walked over to the closet, and did the only thing she really could do. She opened the plastic bag and poured it's contense on the bed.

Out of it came the clothes that was in the bag they had taken. Grace's heart lept. She quickly grabbed hold of the garments, ready to throw them on, when something inside of her made her stop. Such a kind act seemed so unlike the Joker. What if he had done something to the clothes? Like put some sort of flesh eating powder in them. Grace winced. She picked up the pile of clothes and set them underneath the pillow. She was used to having to wear the same pair of clothes for days on end. She's would wait to change. Grace picked up the bag and went to put it under the bed when something caught her eye.

Something was still in the bag. She shook it, and out of it fluttered a small card. Grace picked it up, brow furrowed. It was a joker card. "Heh." She rolled her eyes, placing it absent mindedly on the dresser.

"Boss, whya' keepin' her around for if you aint gonna kill her?" One of the henchmen asked, looking through an empty box. His boss either didn't hear him, or was ignoring him, for The Joker erupted in loud cursing, kicking a box similair to the ones his henchmen were shifting through. "They took it all." He growled, turning and stalking to the mouth of the warehouse.

"Well..." He giggled. "Two can play at THAT game." He said, straightening his purple jacket and stepping into the chill November air. "Boss?" The two men in clown masks joined their ring leader outside the warehouse.

"You two, go back to the safe house! I have some business to take care of..." He said darkly, a maniac laugh sounding in the air as the sun began to set.

"S-Sure thing boss." The two men said, scurrying to the van. "You want a ride?" One of them asked cautiously. "No." The Joker licked his lips. "I think I'll walk." He said cheerfully.

The two in clown masks looked at each other, started the car, and sped away quickly, wanting to get as far away as possible from wherever it was the Joker was going.

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"Hey." Brandon turned to his fellow henchmen. "What do you suppose he's keepin' that girl for?" He asked, speaking low as if he was afraid the Joker might be listening somehow. "I dunno." The other said, eyes not leaving the telivision screen. "Hey you know she hasn't eaten anything sence we got her. Maybe we should give her somethin', ya know?" Brandon said.

"Nah, the boss'll prolly kill her soon anyhow." Mike, the other henchmen said. The room was silent for a while. Brandon was deep in thought. "She sure is pretty." He said outloud. "Hey, watch it!" The other said, turning to look at his associate. "If the Joker hears you say that he'll tear you a new face in your ass!" He said gruffly, turning back to the TV.

Brandon blinked. Maybe he'd just go check on her. He was sure his boss wouldn't be back until the morning, if he would be back at all. "Where you goin?" Mike asked as Brandon got up and began walking towards the door. "Uh, no where." He said, hand on the doo knob. "Heh, it better not be to see that girl." He warned. "I-It's not." Brandon said, quickly exiting the room before Mike could say another word.

Grace lay asleep on the bed, on her side, arm underneath her head and knees curled to her chest. Her expression was closed mouth, eyes relaxed, hair flowing about her pale face and shoulders. Brandon's heart lept to her throat. Damn, why did she have to be so pretty? He gave the door a push as he walked towards the bed. It clicked against the wall, but didn't shut.

Brandon placed the bag that contained food on the dresser and gazed down at Gracie. Her camo pants hung low, the strap of her thong shown clinging to her hip bone. Her tank top had ridden up just above her belly button while she had been sleeping.

Unbeknownst to the man, Gracie was awake. She had been the moment he came walking down the hallway, and would have shot up to a sitting position immediately, but she knew the intruder wasn't the Joker. If it was, he would have burst through the door shouting something. Brandon bent down, gently brushing a strand of Gracie's hair with his finger tips.

It took all of her willpower not to shoot a fist up and punch him. What if he had a gun, or a knife? Grace kept her eyes closed and hoped against all hope that whoever it was at her bed would walk away soon. "So beautiful..." Brandon wheezed, stroking the side of Grace's face. She squirmed, rolling onto her stomach, in hopes of scaring him away.

But as Grace's luck would have it, she did the opisate. A sharp intake of breath could be heard from the man next to Grace's bed. She heard him step closer, and then, the most horrific sound graced her ears.

A zipper being pulled down.

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**Review, my loves.**


	5. These Thoughts Create My World

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, The Joker, or any of it's affiliations.**

* * *

**Previously****:**_ Unbeknownst to the man, Gracie was awake. She had been the moment he came walking down the hallway, and would have shot up to a sitting position immediately, but she knew the intruder wasn't the Joker. If it was, he would have burst through the door shouting something. Brandon bent down, gently brushing a strand of Gracie's hair with his finger tips._

_It took all of her willpower not to shoot a fist up and punch him. What if he had a gun, or a knife? Grace kept her eyes closed and hoped against all hope that whoever it was at her bed would walk away soon. "So beautiful..." Brandon wheezed, stroking the side of Grace's face. She squirmed, rolling onto her stomach, in hopes of scaring him away._

_But as Grace's luck would have it, she did the oposit. A sharp intake of breath could be heard from the man next to Grace's bed. She heard him step closer, and then, the most horrific sound graced her ears._

_A zipper being pulled down._

* * *

The moment that sound hit her ears, Grace lept to life, springing back into the corner of her bed, a loud scream echoing from her lungs. She wasn't sure what she was screaming for. It's not like anyone could save her, or would for that matter.

Brandon lept towards Grace, covering her mouth with his large rough hand. "Shaddup!" He whispered fiercely. "The boss might hear you!" He said, stupidly removing his hand from Grace's mouth. She blinked at him. Now, as much as she didn't want to see the Joker, she'd rather that, than be raped.

The very thought made her skin crawl, and panic shoot up her spine. She realized at that moment she'd rather be killed by the Joker than have such a horror done to her.

Again, the man moved forward. Grace immediately screamed again. "Stop it!" Brandon's fist came into contact with Grace's cheek. She hissed, falling onto the side. Hands with no regard for what they were doing, roughly enclosed around Grace's ankles, pulling her to the edge of the bed.

Black clouded the edges of Gracie's vision. A wave of nausea washed over her. She opened her mouth to scream, but another sensation cut her cry off, never to be heard. It wasn't a blow to the face, as she had expected. It was the beautiful feeling of a breeze rushing over her right side. Gracie's head had just turned in that direction when a loud cracking sound struck the air like lightning.

At first Gracie didn't know what had happened, or what caused the noise. But then Brandon fell back into a heap onto the floor, and the whole scenario became clear.

The Joker stood in the door way, a large sleek metal handgun in hand. He was laughing a wicked laugh. Gracie was more terrified than she had been a moment before. She backed herself against the wall, blankets balled up in her tight fists.

"Good evening." The Joker said, almost mockingly, smiling to Gracie. She squealed, pressing herself farther against the wall.

"Oh what a shame, looks like we're going to have to move you now." The Joker said, nudging the dead man on the floor with his boot.

Gracie had just managed to gather her thoughts when two strong arms were pulling her from the bed. She fought very little, too numb with what had just happened to think properly.

She was shoved into a bathroom. It was dirty, but function able. "Knock on the door when yer done." Mike said gruffly before shutting the door behind him, leaving Gracie alone in the bathroom.

She relieved her full bladder, washed her face and scrubbed at her teeth with a finger, as she had no tooth brush. Her hair had been kept in a high pony tail, to keep it from tangling as little as possible.

Reluctantly Gracie undressed, shedding her clothing in a pile on the floor. She pulled the curtain back and stepped inside the shower. Letting the water run at a decently warm temperature, she turned her back to the facet and let the shower head rain on her.

She felt the water pour down her back, warm and soothing. It soaked her hair, running like a river down the curve of her breasts. Grace exhaled deeply, careening her head back to let the water run down her face and neck. It had been so long since she was able to take her time in the shower. The ones in Juvi could be no longer than five minutes. This was the first time in a very long time Grace was able to indulge herself. And of all places, she thought. Held captive in the Joker's clutches.

Her closed eyelids trembled, brow furrowing as a scene from a memory flashed before her.

* * *

_It wasn't as if I was used to being handled delicately. Hell, for the most part I was a whore, and whores are never treated with much respect._

_But for some reason, when I was grabbed by my upper arm and yanked from my cell; I wanted nothing more than to reel back and land a punch across the woman guard's pinched face._

_The first night there offered me no sleep. I lay awake on my cement bed, staring at the ceiling. The light that hung above flickered occasionally. My stomach groaned from hunger, but that was nothing new. I wasn't entirely mad. Mostly annoyed and offended. I tried to comfort myself with better thoughts, remember better times; but I had no such comforts to recall. So I was left with no comfort, just the steady flickering of the light above._

_For breakfast we were given cereal in pre-sealed containers. I had about four of them. That was the only time I eat, as lunch and dinner seemed in-edible to say the least._

_Violet eyes drank in the scenes before me. There were at least twelve other girls in the gigantic room with me. Some lounged on plastic couches, others sat reading a book. A few even dared to carry on a conversation. Most of them wore red jump suits, instead of the gray attire I, and just a few others wore. There was no laughter in this place. The air was tense, backs were either rigid with fear, or slumped with pain._

_On Sundays we were allowed to do our nails and our hair, which, I thought was odd, sense we weren't even allowed to wear so much as a hair tie._

_They prayed a lot there too. I occasionally participated. But the whole God thing wasn't my cup of tea. It would be funny, I thought, if the father I didn't remember was a priest. Were they even allowed to get married and have children?_

_There were some girls as young as fourteen there. There was no hope in their faces, in anyone's faces really. No spirit. That was until, on my third day in GCJDF, Red appeared._

_She had short boyish blond hair, and fierce blue eyes. A little thing, but with tons of gusto. They hauled her into the common room, as they called it, one afternoon right after breakfast._

_It took three female guards to take her in. Once inside the common room, they turned heel and left. She was someone else's problem now. The little blonde did a prompt about face, and yelled to the guard's backs "Fuck you too buddy!"_

_Everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch Red's entrance. I had seen one other girl be brought in the day before, and all she did was stumble to an empty couch and stare at a spot on the wall._

_"Hey, Spitfire, get to your seat. Now." The Guard behind the 'desk' said to Red. "Huh?" She turned to the Guard, smiled, saluted and said "Aye aye captain!". I groaned inwardly as she found the breakfast table where I was sitting at, and took a seat right across from me._

_"SO, whatcha' in for?" She said, grinning._

* * *

The water stopped, Grace stepped out. There was no towl, so she was forced to do her best with ringing her hair out, putting it up, and pulling on an outfit that had appeared on the sink.

At this point, this didn't scare nor worry her.

She had seen so much, all she wanted to do was sleep. And eat.

The Joker was leaning against the wall across from the bathroom door. He was the first thing she saw when she opened the door. "I thought you were toled to knock." The Joker said mockingly. Grace raised an upper lip in disgust.

"Not in the mood to talk? I see. Follow me then." He said, taking her to the right. Grace was confused. She was being taken back to her room. She was sure they had said something about 'moving her'.

They passed her room. Grace winced, releasing an involuntary groan as she saw the blood soaked carpet where Brandon had been shot.

The elegant clown laughed and chided, "Don't be frightened my dear. It's just blood." He said, promptly followed by a wicked laugh.

"Oh, and." He abruptly stopped, turning to Grace. "I apologize for this my dear." Gracie's eyes widened in confusion. But before she had the chance to say anything, a hand covered her mouth from behind, and in mere seconds, she fell forward onto the floor.

* * *

Grace awoke in a new room. A ringing sounded in her ears. She clutched at her aching head, groaning in pain. A wave of nausea washed over her, but she pushed it aside. She sat there a minute, on a bed, afraid to move incase the headache returned. Instead, she looked around.

She was in a small rectangle room, colored a faded beige. A ceiling fan whirled above her. There was no closet like the other room, instead there was a large wooden dresser, table, and two chairs. At the table was a bag. Grace had a feeling it was for her. She stood slowly, cautiously walking to the table.

In the bag was food. Grace gulped. Should she eat it? What if it was poisoned? She considered this. Well, she thought. If the Joker wanted to kill her, she was sure he'd find a more 'hands on' way to do it. So, taking a seat at a chair, she pulled the food from the bag and began to eat.

* * *

The man in the white mask sat before his dressing table. Smoke rose from the cigar wedged between his red lips. His mask of paint helped him forget the madness that was himself. Presently he needed more to calm his mind.

It was Monte Cristo, a heavy sort of cigar. Amateurs would quickly become giddy with it. But it barely buzzed the scarred clown. He narrowed his eyes as he took a drag, enjoying its cloying aroma.

He thought through the smell of it, why wouldn't the damn girl tell him where it was? Was this all some game to her? His upper lip curled at the thought. The Joker wasn't in the mood for games.

He liked how his name contradicted his nature with things. He was not a patient person at all. He wondered for a moment...

What IF she REALLY couldn't remember...? Maybe she needed a jolt to the memory? Something familiar to help her remember.

Perhaps his desert eagle (a gun) pointed to her head would help her remember..?

The Joker considered this as he stared off into space. He had to think of a way, and quickly, he didn't have much time.

His eyes strayed to his revolver lying on the table. Standing, the cigar fell to the floor. He picked up the revolver and headed out the front door.

* * *

Violet eyes took on a distant look as Gracie sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. She fell back, laying down with her eyes closed. She didn't know what to make of the Joker. Was he terrorizing her or helping her? Grace wasn't sure. But it was becoming increasingly harder to think, as the pull of sleep began dragging her under.

* * *


	6. Gunpowder And Lead

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, The Joker, or any of it's affiliations.**

* * *

**Previously: **_What IF she REALLY couldn't remember...? Maybe she needed a jolt to the memory? Something familair to help her remember._

_Maybe, he thought. She needed a jolt to the memory? Something familair to help her remember. Perhaps his desert eagle (a gun) pointed to her head would help her remember..?_

_  
The Joker considered this as he stared off into space. He had to think of a way, and quickly, he didn't have much time._

_His eyes strayed to his revolver lying on the table. Standing, the cigar fell to the floor. He picked up the revolver and headed out the front door._

* * *

_Violet eyes took on a distant look as Gracie sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. She fell back, laying down with her eyes closed. She didn't know what to make of the Joker. Was he terrorizing her or helping her? She wasn't sure. But it was becoming increasingly harder to think, as the pull of sleep began dragging Grace under._

* * *

"Careful with that!" A bulky man in a white wife beater shouted to two men, carrying a T.V between them. Vieled in the cover of darkness, stood five men, three of which standing in front of a building, it's large glass window in shards at the ground.

The leader, the man in a white wife beater and long dark brown hair had a cigarette in between his lips, shouting orders.

"Hey, boss, whose that?" Said another man, carefully walking out from the shattered window.

Every head turned to their right, toward the streets. Eyes narrowed, trying to make out the shape of a form rising from the smoky shadows. First, the face of the stranger could be seen. It was eerily white in the dark...

The TV dropped, shattering to the ground. The one in-charge yelled, "What the hell! I told you two to-"

Three of the four men recoiled, for they could see the Joker quite clearly now.

"Hey! Who are you?" Yelled the leader, his thick Brooklyn accent ringing in the night air. The Joker's laughter filled the night. He stopped just short of the men, arms at his sides, head bent slightly.

"Shit!" One of them yelled and ran off. The rest stood still in horror, waiting for orders.

"What, where are you going-coward!" Yelled the man in charge.

"Boss...don't you know who that is?" Said the one who had stepped from the shattered window. His voice trembled slightly, eyes locked on the pale white face of the Joker.

Their boss gave him a quizzical look. "I don't give a sh-"

"It's the Joker, boss." He said, cutting him off.

The man's eyes suddenly went wide. He turned swiftly to face the clown, only to find he wasn't there.

"Heh. Musta-" A shot was heard.

Then, in the dark, there was a dull, dull thud. "He's dead!" Yelled one of the men that had been carrying the now broken T.V.

The one who panicked drew out his sub-machine gun and fired in random directions. "You're wasting bullets idiot!"

A wicked laugh rang in the night.

The man with the machine gun did not stop. Soon came the sound of the automatic weapon firing without anymore bullets. "Shit, look what you done!" Said the boss, gun raised in both hands, pointed in various directions as he attempted to locate the Joker.

All around, bullets holes were every where, and half the things they were trying to steal were ruined. All three of the remaining men had hand guns drawn, aiming in different places, panic in their eyes.

They wondered if the rumors were true, that the Joker knew... magic. "Boss, lets get out of here!" One of the goonies yelled, taking a few backward steps toward the car.

"Running so fast?" Asked a quiet voice. The Joker appeared and stood under the light of a street lamp.

He was wearing a dark purple suit, his hands nonchalantly in his pockets.

Two of the men froze, as if rooted to the street. The other kept running. He tilted his head to one side, smirking. The Joker calmly lifted his hand gun, aimed, and fired. The running man fell to the ground with a sick thud. Another man from the back brought his gun up and aimed, but the Joker shot him down like an animal. Guiltless.

Shadows poured from a van that was parked in the distance. "Hey, what's going on?" One of them yelled. The Joker's head shot in their direction. His arm raised, and very calmly he fired his weapon, sending one of the six men to the ground.

All at once the men started shooting at the clown in the dark purple suit.

He killed three more on their side, as he ran from their bullets. The men split up, finally realizing that keeping from the lights was a good idea.

The Joker was perched at the base of a street light, one gloved hand gripping it's length, feet at it's base, as he hung there in what otherwise would be thought a noble position.

"I got him!" He heard one of the men yell. But the Joker was no fool, he knew exactly what he was doing. And just as the second man graced his vision, he shot. Twice. A bullet landed in a knee cap of each of the men.

They dropped like flies onto the cold cement of Gotham City.

The clown dropped from his perch, walking nonchalantly to the men. They both cowered on the ground, gripping at their bleeding wounds. "...D-don't shoot anymore, man. You win!" One pleaded as the other threw his had back and cried out in pain.

The Joker smirked, cocking his head to the side. "Well, _ah_, in that case." He paused. The men exchanged hopeful glances. "No." A laugh ripped from the Joker's throat as he raised his gun and shot two more times, embedding a bullet dead center in the skulls of both men.

He continued to laugh, reaching inside his jacket to put the gun away.

But the Joker made a mistake.

He forgot about the boss.

Behind him, he heard a gun cock.

Then a shot.

The Joker fell to the ground.

The shadow of the boss fell over his body. The gun cocked back.

And a shot was heard.

The Joker sat up on an elbow, gun smoking.

"Heh." He said. "Too easy." Standing slowly, he looked around. "Ah, right." He limped to the building that had been robbed, leaving a trail of blood behind him. This killing had did what it was supposed to. Quench his madness and blood lust.

He bent, picking up a bag of goods that had been left behind by one of the men.

In his mind he thought, "Pain? What of pain of the body? Pain of the mind is so much more cruel."

With that he turned his heel and began walking back into the shadows from which he came.

Later his men would come in a van to take what other stuff was in the warehouse.

It was how their boss sometimes worked, asking them to come half an hour later. And even if they did accompany him and he were attacked, they were ordered not to fire, and to stay out of the way. No one asked questions, though they assumed it had to do with the Joker's need to be in control.

* * *

Gracie pounded on the bedroom door. "I need to pee!" She yelled. The door opened and Grace marched through it. "Bout' time!" She said to the henchmen. He was a new guy, or at least for Grace. He'd only been there two days. That's right, she thought. It had been two days since she last saw the Joker.

Everyday she'd get a meal, occasionally two, depending on who it was at the hide out to feed her. They'd let her out to use the bathroom whenever she pounded on the door.

Grace entered the bathroom, and took extra time to look herself over in the mirror. They let her take a shower every day also, and each day there was a new pair of clothes for her to wear. Usually they were plain clothes that didn't come close to matching, but she was all together surprised that the Joker even catered to those basic needs.

Shrugging as she thought this, Grace opened the bathroom door and was led back to her room.

She found the bed, laid down, and thought. That was what she did all day. Woke up, pounded the door, ate, and sat in bed, thinking. She was beginning to go insane.

The light haze of sleep still fogged Grace's mind and body. She yawned, covering her mouth with a hand as she did so. Fluffing the pillow, she curled up on her side and closed her eyes.

It was then that the door burst open.

"Christ!" Grace yelled, bolting upright.

Her head immediately turned to face the intruder. It was the Joker. She sighed, more annoyed than scared. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to knock?" She said, scowling and laying back down. Though her body tensed, and she no longer tried getting comfortable.

"Yes, she did, but, _ah_." The clown laughed. Grace rolled her eyes. He didn't finish his sentence. She had a feeling it wasn't a good thing.

"What do you want?" She said gruffly. "Tsk tsk." The Joker said. From his suit he drew out a desert eagle (gun). He cocked it smoothly and grinned, "Time is running out my dear."

Grace Froze.

"Where is it? I don't have time to play games." The Joker curled his red lip, "Always hated to lose."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." Grace shuddered, suddenly very afraid and confused.

The Joker yelled and banged his fist on the wall, not even recoiling from the pain. "YOU LIE!" He shouted, his voice no longer smooth.

Grace flinched, flattening herself against the wall.

He repeated, his voice soft and dangerous. "Where. Is. It?" Grace's mouth opened and closed. She tried to speak, but when she did attempted to talk, nothing came out.

The Joker growled, raising his hand in her direction, as if to backhand her.

Grace stared at him. His hand was shaking violently. The Joker growled angrily and then turned to leave.

Grace called out to him, "I really don't know, please let me go!" But the door slammed shut before she could say no more. Grace fell to the bed in a heap, tears flooding her violet eyes. Hopelessness fell like a heavy blanket on her.

The Joker, however, had heard her.

He was thinking. "So she was telling the truth the whole time..." He wondered what to do with her now. Perhaps all she needed was more time. exasperation filled his pale green eyes as The Joker paced the hallway outside Grace's room, gun in hand.

The Joker relented, growling as he charged down the hallway towards an unknown destination.  


* * *

**I am SO sorry I haven't posted in a while. I have no excuse other than slight writer's block. I pretty much know exactly what I want to do with the story, but I'm having a hard time with finding a way to build up the mojo between The Joker and Grace. If anyone has suggestions, please let me know! You'll be given full credit of course.**

Thanks everyone!

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